


Double Vision

by AudreyRose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Implied Child Abuse, Implied Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyRose/pseuds/AudreyRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard comes to Sherlock and John for help, what will the outcome be? (and I suck at summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Vision

**Author's Note:**

> I just got struck with this idea and had to write it. It's not finished yet, but it's more than likely only going to have two chapters so bear with me?

Richard's eyes went wide as they focused on the barrel of the gun pointed at him, a whimper passed his lips before he could stop himself. He inched back towards the wall, his legs shook and he swallowed thickly. His eyes moved from the barrel to John and Sherlock, he wanted to beg and plead, he didn't want to die.

"Please," he whimpered and John didn't even react, his eyes burning with a rage he was all too familiar with. The reason he was here, had come to ask for their help. "I need your help, please," he was desperate, paranoid and scared. "I swear I'm not him, please, please," he could hear his voice cracking, hear the desperation and he knew he was crying.

"John," it was Sherlock who spoke first, drawing Richard's brown eyes from the barrel inches from his face. The gun was lowered but he still cowered against the wall, making himself as small as possible as he slid to the floor. "Why should we trust you?" the consulting detective kept his voice quiet and even, his eyes taking in the actor.

"I... Jim, he..." he swallowed, knowing how much trouble he'd be in if, no, when his twin found out where he was. "He's my brother, but," he shook his head breathing out shakily. "He, he's losing it m-more than usual, he's scaring me," he curled in on himself even more. "He's been hurting me..." he had never told anyone, even when they'd been younger when Jim wouldn't get his way he'd take it out on him. He'd left scars, cuts and bruises over the years.

John shot Sherlock what was obviously a skeptic look, shaking his head slightly and Richard felt panic welling up in the back of his throat. He couldn't go back to his flat, he knew Jim would be waiting, a disappointed look on his face before he would stand, trap him, make him bleed. Jim had always taunted him, telling him how he'd never be rid of him, no matter how hard he'd try.

"Please help me, he'll kill me if I go back, please," he was shaking even more now, unable to hold back another whimper. "I just want my life back," he pulled his legs to his chest, ignoring the pain of his bruised ribs. "Every time I'm even more terrified he'll just snap completely and I'll never wake up, that I'll die at his hands..." he looked up at the two men, neither of their faces giving anything away.

He swallowed back a whine as Sherlock moved towards him, his eyes cold and deducing as they swept over him once again. "Bruised, possibly fractured ribs, other signs of abuse," he paused looking at the way Richard was wrapped in a hoodie in the middle of summer. "Arms bruised, held down, tied or cuffed, marked as a reminder," the curly haired detective looked up at the doctor as Richard fought not to look terrified, he knew what Sherlock could do.

"Please."

John lets out a huff of a sigh and the gun is put away as the doctor in him takes over. He has Richard remove the hoodie, which he does with shaking fingers, his eyes on the floor once he's left in just his t-shirt. The marks on his wrists are angry and red, with dried blood clinging in spots. He feels like he's betraying his twin by being here, begging for help from them, but he can't just sit and wait for Jim to snap again.

"What did he do to you?" John sounds angry as his fingers probe at his wrists and up his arms before having him remove his shirt. That's when he freezes up, he doesn't want them to see the map of scars and bruises that cover him, even if they're not all from Jim, so many from before he'd reached adulthood.

"I... They aren't all," he shakes his head, pressing back against the wall even more. "They aren't all from Jimmy," he murmurs before swallowing back any other words, his fingers hesitating at the hem of his shirt. "I... He, he wasn't always," he knows his voice is shaking as his fingers tightening on the fabric. "He used to protect me, our da," he lets his eyes fall on John's shoes. "Jim took care of me..."

Richard lets out a quiet breath and ducks his head, pulling the shirt over his head. He hears the noise the doctor makes, fingers carefully inspecting him, but he lets his eyes remain closed. He knew how bad he looked, covered in scars that showed his past. He knew which were from his da and which were from Jim, which had even been caused by his own hands.

"I don't want to die," his voice was near silent as he pulled his legs closer to him. "Not yet, not because of Jim," he forced himself to breathe, he couldn't, _wouldn't_ , get his hopes up. Not again, he couldn't be disappointed if he didn't hope. The way he jumped when a hand touched his shoulder earned him a sad but caring look and a slight nod.

"We'll help."


End file.
